


Children of The Gods

by deepestfathoms



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Author Doesn’t Know How God’s Act, Death, Demigod AU, Demigods, Gen, Gift Fic, Murder, Parent-Child Relationship, Please Don’t Kill Me Greek Mythology Stans, Pregnancy, UK Tour, aphrodite and hecate fucked lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22387570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/pseuds/deepestfathoms
Summary: Nine women from history are born as demigods, children of powerful gods.One is born as a full goddess.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 64





	Children of The Gods

**Author's Note:**

> REMINDER: THIS IS THE UK TOUR CAST!!! NOT THE WEST END CAST

Pale slivers of sunlight bleed in through the high window at the center of the church hall, casting shadows that reach like long black needles across the floor. There, beneath the rays, Aragon kneels in front of the altar. In the light, she truly feels divine, clean, holy- the way God intended her to be. However, that feeling is snatched away the moment she steps out of the soothing, warm glow.

No matter how much she prayed, she would never be a child of God, as the Lord was not her creator. Nay, the blood that flowed through her veins was not like the people she was desperate to be kin with.

From behind, there is a loud beating of wings and the fluttering of feathers. Catherine of Aragon, daughter of Nemesis, goddess of revenge, squares her shoulders, but does not turn around.

“Still bowing in these musty buildings I see,” Says her mother, “My child, your wishes for complete mortality are foolish. When will you realize how blessed you are?”

“This is ANYTHING but a bless-” Aragon stopped, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, “I did not call you to fight. I need your help.”

“Oh?” Nemesis quirks a brow. She folds her white wings neatly against her back, intrigued enough to stay. “And what might that be?”

“I want to get back at the whore who ruined my marriage.” Aragon states. Her tone is bitter and the anger flickering in her eyes amuses her mother. “I want that bastard to suffer the way she’s made me suffer. That is what I request, mother.”

Nemesis hums, thoroughly entertained by the offer. She taps her chin, gliding over to her demi-spawn, who she gazes down on with sharp eyes.

“An interesting proposition.” She says, “You are quite upset, yes?”

“Yes.” Aragon nods.

“Then I shall do it.” Nemesis says, noting how Aragon perks slightly at her agreement. “However,” She halts her daughter’s upcoming celebration, “You know my conditions.”

“An eye for an eye,” Aragon murmurs. Her body tenses. “You’re holding me to that? Even though I’m your daughter?”

“Of course,” Nemesis says, “They’re my rules.”

“I am NOT giving you one of my eyes!”

“I never said it had to be an eye,” Nemesis points out, “I just need something in return for helping you.” She opens her wings, “Or you could always do it yourself. You are a demigod. Use that clever brain of yours, child.”

“The extent of my powers is in no comparison to yours!” Aragon says, desperation oozing into her voice, “Please, mother, you-” She sets a hand on the small bump on her stomach. “You can take my child.”

For a moment, what looks like shock flits across Nemesis’ face before she calms her features. However, her feathers remain moderately ruffled.

“Your…baby?”

Aragon takes a deep breath.

“Yes.”

Nemesis is silent for a long moment.

“If that’s what you truly offer,” She says, “then you have a deal.”

With a wave of her mother’s hand, a sharp pain struck Aragon in the stomach, causing her to gasp and stagger. Nemesis leapt forward and steadies her daughter, who is clutching tightly at her midsection.

“Is it…”

“It has been done.”

——————

“Are you scared?’

Hermes has never been the most fearsome of gods, what with those strange little wings he wears and him being one of the youngest, so Anne wasn’t too worried about facing him in her prison cell in the tower.

“Not exactly.” Answers the daughter of the merchant and herald god.

“You brought it upon yourself,” Hermes chides, as if his child didn’t already know, “I mean- using your powers to run around and sleep with other men before you could get caught!”

“I really am your daughter.” Anne smirked.

Hermes’ crossed arms tense over his chest. Then, he clicks his tongue, shook his head, and laughed.

“That you are.” He says, “However, I am unable to do anything about your current predicament. Your fate is now set in the stone.”

“So this is really it?”

“I’m afraid so.” Hermes frowns, “For now, at least.”

Anne raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Soon, child. Soon.”

——————

Being the daughter of the god of healing, medicine, music, and poetry, Jane was always very confident in her healing powers. She remembers once how she fixed the broken leg of a small fawn when she was just a little girl, earning a pleased hum from not only her father, but also her father’s twin sister.

Since then, helping others has always been at the top of Jane Seymour’s mind. Discreetly, she would mend the scraped knees of fallen children, regenerate the worst of a wounded soldier’s injuries, soothe the burns on a servant’s hand after they accidentally touched the hot metal of a steaming kettle.

That being said, she wasn’t really that scared of her pregnancy. Yes, she heard about the mortality rates of child birth, but she had faith in her powers. She was constantly using the magic on her baby to keep them healthy inside of her womb, and she could always heal herself if something went wrong. The fear was quelled.

And yet…

The birth was painful. More painful than Joan had been expecting. She was so focused on pushing and breathing that she barely had any chances to use her magic to keep her health stable. And when an opportunity did come about, she either filtered the healing sensation into the baby she was worried for or used it to fix the hand of the poor, young lady in waiting she was grasping onto so tightly the bones may have broken.

Hours passed. Then days. Even after the baby is born- a beautiful, bouncing boy named Edward- Jane struggles between the lines of life and death. If she isn’t unconscious, then she’s struggling to breathe over the pain or begging to see her son. Her pleading requests are always shut down.

Her magic is but a faint flicker within her. She has tried to mend any damaged flesh (the nurses were saying her vagina badly tore down to her rectum) but the power is either very weak or not working at all.

The latter seemed more likely.

“Am I dying?”

At first, it seemed like Jane is talking to no one, as the only person in the room with her is the young lady in waiting she had been clinging to while giving birth, who was asleep in a chair in the corner of the room.

But then a beam of sun cut through the thick grey storm clouds outside, bathing the bedroom in the glow. A man appears before her very eyes.

“I’m afraid so, my dear,” Apollo frowns, “You overused your magic on your son. Keeping him alive and safe.”

“Is be okay?” Jane asks, “Is he-”

“He’s fine, sweeting,” Apollo soothes her. He crosses over to the bed and takes one of her frail hands, using the other to stroke back her sweaty bangs. “Perfectly healthy.”

Jane nodded weakly. A fresh wave of pain hits her and she screwed her eyes shut.

“Can I hold him?” She wheezes out, “My son… Please…please let me hold Edward once…”

Apollo frowned. He gently strokes his thumb over her knuckles.”

“I’m sorry, my sweet. I can’t do that.” He says.

“But-”

“Rest… Rest…”

——————

“What you have done is quite foolish.”

Cleves laughed and splatters of blood come out of her mouth. She looks up at her father, Mars, and grinned, despite the gash in her stomach.

“You are my father.” She says.

“That I am,” Mars says, “But you have ruined your mortal vessel. You’re going to die.”

Cleves grunted and tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but is halted by the pain. Mars presses her back down into the damp grass, his hands surprisingly gentle.

“Do you hate me, father?” Asked the dying woman.

Mars pursed his lips and brushed Cleves’ blood-spattered cheek with a tender finger. For a moment, he almost doesn’t seem like the god of war.

“I could never hate such a great warrior,” He says, “You have made me very proud, Anna. And now, you die an honored death.”

Cleves smiled up at her father. She feels him ease the sword clenched tightly in her fingers out of her hand and she breathes a shuddering, but relieved breath.

“I’m glad.” She whispers. Her eyelids grow heavy.

“One day, you will raise your sword again.” She hears Mars say. His voice is fading out. “But now is not the time.”

——————

Katherine opens her hand and watches a small rainbow weave and flow around her fingers. Watching the colors sparkle and flit around in the air became one of the only things that bring her comfort ever since she was wed to the king.

Well, there was one other things…

“Is this what you wanted for me?”

Iris, goddess of rainbows, appears in a veil of colorful sparkles. Her beautiful features are creased with worry as she crosses over and kneels beside her young daughter.

“I’ve always imagined you being royalty,” She says, “But this treatment you get? Never.”

Katherine sniffles softly. “Wh-why is this happening to me? I-I…”

“I know not.” Iris replies sadly.

She went to stand up, but Katherine clings tightly to her hand and her heart melts for her child. She pulls the girl into her lap and placed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“When you grow up,” She began, knowing stories usually cheered Katherine up, “You will be a beautiful young woman. Powerful, too.”

“Will I still have my powers?” Katherine asks.

“Well, of course, silly girl,” Iris chuckles, cuddling the girl closer and pressing a loving kiss to her cheek, making her giggle. “You powers will be even more amazing than they are now. You will even be able to shoot beams of light!”

“Woah!” Katherine lit up, her eyes glowing with wonder, “Really?”

“Really.” Iris confirms with a nod, “You will be so strong, my darling. The most amazing demigod the world has ever seen.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

A year later, Katherine believes she was lied to when she is executed. But little did she know…

—————

“As much as I love your passion for my art, all this work you’re doing cannot be good for the baby.”

Cathy perked up at the sound of the voice and twists around to see her mother standing there. She can’t help but smile a little.

“I’m free from Henry,” She says, “I’m going to write.” Her small smile twists up into a smirk, “You worry over me?”

Athena, goddess of wisdom, seems a little ruffled. “Of course,” She says, “I worry over you and the child.”

Cathy set one hand on her six-month-pregnant bump, chuckling lightly. Her mother crosses over and gently touches her belly, feeling the life flutter within her womb.

“What an energetic little one,” She muses.

“They love to kick me in the ribs,” Cathy laughs lightly, “Tell me: Will they have god blood?”

“I am unsure,” Athena admits. She sets her palm flat against the top of Cathy’s stomach, feeling a kick against her hand. “They may. But not half like you are. Less.”

Cathy nodded and turned back to her writing, but Athena grabs her shoulders.

“Ah-ah.” Athena tuts, “To bed with you.”

“But- Mother!”

“Come on,” Athena hauls Cathy to her feet and began guiding her to her bed, “You need to rest. You may continue tomorrow.”

Cathy huffed, but a small smile tugs on her lips as she climbs into bed. She gazes up at her mother, who is watching over her closely.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“I need to make sure you don’t get up and go work whenever I leave.” Athena says, thinking one step ahead. “Just rest, my dear.”

With another small huff, Cathy closes her eyes and began to drift off. She feels her mother gently touch her belly and mutter something, then disappeared.

Thomas lays down beside her.

——————

Hermes watches his youngest child pace about her rooms with a pitiful look settled on his features. His worry ran deep- the girl has barely been sleeping ever since her sister was put in jail and tears seemed to be constantly flowing from her eyes.

“Can’t you do something?!” Maggie suddenly exploded, startling Hermes slightly. He calms himself quickly.

“I’m sorry, Margaret,” He says sadly, “There is nothing to be done.”

“But- but you’re a god !” Maggie cries, “You should you- should be able to do something! You can save her!”

“I cannot,” Hermes says, “I cannot interfere. She brought this upon herself.”

“Don’t say that.” Maggie snarls, stalking up to her father, “Henry wasn’t treating her right! She had every right to do what she did!”

Hermes held a hand up. “You must calm yourself, little one.”

Maggie took a step back and sniffled. Fresh tears filled her eyes, making Hermes’ heart clench for his young daughter.

“I don’t wanna lose her,” Maggie whimpered, pressing into her father’s arms and sobbing into his chest, “I-I need her!”

“I know, little one, I know.” Hermes murmurs, stroking his daughter’s hair to try and comfort her, “I don’t want to lose your sister, either.”

Maggie shoved Hermes away, her eyes alight with rage and anguish.

“You are a GOD! You- you could save her! You could get someone else to save her! What- what about Hades?!”

“Absolutely not.” Hermes says instantly. He sighed sadly and gave Maggie a sympathetic look. “My child, I’m sorry. I cannot do anything for her. Your sister’s soul now lies in Hades’ hands.“

Maggie stares at him in shock before gritting her teeth.

“You’re useless.” She seethed before running out.

——————

Joan’s legs burned as she ran through London, spurred forward by the shouting of guards behind her. Their weapons were out, primed for her blood. It was only fair, they thought, since she had killed their queen.

It was a horrifying revelation. Sure, she had a problem with properly regulating her body temperature and the chill she naturally gave off, but had she really been so cold she froze Lady Jane Seymour to freeze to death?

“Run, little snow fox!” Her father cries in her ears, “Don’t let them get you!”

Joan ran faster, desperate to get away. Behind her, the clack of a metal contraption cracks loudly- agony explodes in Joan’s right arm.

She howls in pain. She stumbles, falling down to one knee, scraping it against the cold asphalt, but it’s nowhere near as bad as the crossbow bolt sticking out of her arm.

A hoard of guards round the corner. Their swords and spears are up. Joan could already imagine her hot blood dripping from the gleaming blade.

She doesn’t want to die.

Joan thrust her hand out and a freezing ray of frost shoots out from her palm. The ice spreads across the ground and large, sharp icicles rise up to impale several guards through the stomachs and suspend their bodies in the air. Those who didn’t die scream in shock, rage, _fear_.

One man passes through the frozen spikes and rushed Joan with his sword raised, but he’s too slow. A chunk of ice nails straight through his throat.

People- not just guards, now- screech in terror. They cry in horror about the beast before them, the monster that was slaughtering them all like pigs.

That makes Joan freeze. She looks around and was sick with the fact that the ice has spread and menacing icicles gut people who weren’t even going after her.

She was killing innocents.

The spikes continue to grow at her output of distressed emotions that filter into her magic. She tries to get them to stop, but the frost doesn’t listen. One woman cries out for God to save them all.

Her body is ripped by two icicles.

“Snow fox!” Her father yells, but Joan can’t move. Scalding tears drip down her cold cheeks and she doesn’t even realize it.

A daring soldier rushes at her. She doesn’t move. She craves the end of his blade.

But before her throat could be cut, a man lands in front of her in a freezing whirlwind that startles the guard away. A blizzard rages with just a mere beat of the mysterious man’s huge purple wings.

Boreas, god of the north wind, now stands before them all.

Joan stares up at her father with tears in her eyes. He looks back at her pitifully before calling off the ice growing through the streets. The bodies they were lanced in the air fall to the floor into pools of blood and guts.

Boreas speaks no words to the terrified mortals. All he does is save them from the frost, then grabbed his daughter and flew away.

——————

The smell of ash hung heavy in the air. A grey haze leaks out of the mouth of the cave, whorls of smoke wreathing around the trees and twisting into the sky. Amidst all the heat, Maria wipes her brow, but sweat continued to stream down her face regardless of the action.

“Very good,” Hephaestus, god of the forge, hums, watching his daughter create a great, gleaming broadsword in the smith he conjured up in the cave. “Give it a bit more heat.”

Maria nods. After grinding her teeth to make friction in her mouth, she breathes out a bright golden plume of fire onto the blade. She watches the metal glow orange, then brought her hammer onto it, shaping the weapon into perfection.

“Wonderful!” Hephaestus cries, his deep, loud voice booming through the cavern. He plucks up the sword, not affected by the heat of the hot steel, and holds it up to his eyes, admiring it. “This is perfect, my girl!”

“Thank you, father,” Maria says, puffing out her chest in pride. Thin lines of smoke wind out from her nostrils when she breathes out. She laughs when the god ruffles the top of her unruly, ashy hair with one of his large hands. “And thank you for this. For taking time out of your ‘godly duties’ to come do this.”

Hephaestus chuckled deeply. “Anything for my only daughter.”

Maria smiles and then turned back to the forge.

“So, what’s next?”

——————

The deal Hecate and Aphrodite made was surprising to many gods, as they were the last two they expected to get together. However, Aphrodite was not one to back down, so she obliged to Hecate’s proposition. A mere two months later, the goddess of love and the goddess of magic had their hard work paid off.

“It’s a girl.” Aphrodite whispers. In her arms she cradled the newborn goddess- an absolutely tiny little girl with tufts of white hair and dark, gleaming eyes whenever they opened. “She’s got my looks.” Aphrodite adds with a chuckle.

Hecate snorts. She carefully lifts the small bundle that was her new daughter and her twin snakes slither down her shoulders to observe the little thing.

“Great magic runs in her blood.” She says proudly, “What a magnificent goddess she will be.”

Aphrodite takes the baby back, rocking her gently.

“Don’t get too attached.” Hecate reminds.

Aphrodite sighs. “I know.” She pauses, “We’ll have to send her to the mortal world soon, won’t we?”

“That was the plan,” Hecate says. “Name her, at least.”

Aphrodite gazes down at her daughter, who opens her dark eyes with an adorable little yawn. One of her tiny hands grabs onto her mother’s and she giggles softly.

“Elizabeth.”

——————

It’s over five hundred years later when the earth of London shifts with supernatural power.

England’s demigods rise from the Underworld once again.

And, among them, a young goddess who has long forgotten her power awakens from her deep slumber.


End file.
